I Can't Care
by inumaru13
Summary: It was supposed to be a normal day. It had started out as a normal day. It was ending like a normal day and yet, where did it all go wrong. There is no mystery there is no case, there's just me and him. Except this time, it was my fault an him the victim.
1. Gang Leader

It was supposed to be a normal day. It had certainly started out as one. Breakfast with half of the food being stolen by glimmering blue yes, lunch with another confiscated sandwich and the pain of a cane smashed foot, constant interruptions during the remainder of the work day, and exuberant ranting on women's desperate chest sizes, then finally the invitation to go drinking. Yet no, all he could hear were the heart monitors screaming, the orderlies rushing supplies, the nurses yelling, then the electric shock that made even he himself, jolt. Shouts of stable and hurry now bounced around him while a gentle hand on his shoulder caused him to flinch.

"Hey," a soft woman's voice echoed into his ears while soft, supple fingers brushed at his cheeks. He blinked, then blinked harder when he realized his cheeks were wet.

"It'll be alright," the voice was back again, the hand from the shoulder sliding lower to rest on his back, gently pushing him in a seemingly random direction. "You need to go wash you hands."

His hands? Slowly, he felt his eyes focus on his hands, the appendages shaking and shuttering under his blank gaze. Blinking again, his eyes widened in horror. Coating his pale, white skin was the thick red material known to him all too well as blood. But he knew that this blood, was not his own.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"WILSON!!" A gruff voice hollered through the halls before a loud bang echoed off his locked door. James Wilson, oncologist, couldn't help but snicker when he hear the stream of curses that followed after the bang which was immediately proceeded by the rattling of his doorknob. Silently continuing his work, he snickered at another attempted bang on the door which was then followed by another and another and then another. After the 7th one, he heard at sigh and footsteps walking away with the company of a cane thump every second step. Congratulating himself on his success, a very rare feat to be accomplished, Wilson bent back to work when an extra loud thump caused him to fall from his chair in surprise.

The same gruff voice hollered through the wood, "WILSON!! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! I CAN SMELL YOUR CARING GEARS RUNNING ON OVERDRIVE!!"

Wilson grumbled while gasping for breath after his landing on his back knocked the wind out of him while a tall, foreboding figure picked his lock, and came in to observe the sight while twirling his cane and throwing up and down in his hand, what was defiantly the missing wheel of his chair.

"And this time, there was no doughnut." The wooden cane thumped by harmlessly as the figure hopped onto his table. House sat in a mock meditation pose, smirking down to his victim as he oh so innocently used his cane to knock off everything from Wilson's newly organized desk.

"HOUSE!!" Wilson fell back dramatically, thumping his head down onto the carpet and spreading his arms out in obvious surrender.

"You are overly obsessive Jimmy," House snorted, giving the supine Wilson a whack in the ribs to emphasize the point. Wilson grunted and rolled his eyes.

"You know House, good friends usually wish for the other to excel rather than going out of their way to maim any chances of their survival."

"Stop pussyfooting Jimmy, didn't I always say you needed to transplant a pair of twins down below."

"HOUSE!!" Wilson blushed, his ears burning with indignation at the reference.

"Preferably, if Cuddy just so happens to bust, and yes with a very big bust, in here, I won't be the one sleeping on the job." Cane once again twirling, blue eyes flashed with amusement when he watched Wilson struggle to sit up. Just to make the poor oncologist's life more difficult, House thumped the cane right into Wilson's solar plexuses, ringing a cry of surprise pain before the man collapsed back onto the floor, the cane pinning him down, stopping any further tries of rising. Almost as if on cue, Cuddy "busted" through the door sighing in exasperation at the scene in front of her.

"House, you have clinic duty." House gave her his best big boy puppy face.

"But Mommy, the ducklings are doing it so they can learn and I'm being taken care of by Nurse Nancy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, crossed the room and knocked the cane off Wilson then bent over to give the supine body up.

"Nurse Nancy is taking care of me today," House smirked and used the now free end of his cane to lift up the end of Cuddy's skirt then shooting a high catcall. Cuddy shrieked, let go of Wilson, letting him to fall back with a hard thump onto the carpet and used her hands to quickly cower her inappropriately cover parts.

"HOUSE THAT DOES IT!" Whirling around, she dragged him off the spot on the desk and stored him out of the room, giving the nursing staff a great deal on entertainment when the dragging turned onto the infamous doctor's ear and he was literally body wrestled into the clinic with Cuddy yelling, "And you have 50 hours of clinic duty for that stunt added to you 30 and don't you even think about dumping them on you team because I will triple it, no questions asked."

All that was left in the aftermath was a winded Wilson left alone to clean his once clean office. No longer than half an hour had passed when his office door crashed open with the slam of a cane and he himself knocked over all his papers when he jumped in surprise.

"Jesus House!" Wilson set his hands down in surrender, pen down in exasperation as brown eyes met frenzied blue.

"That's right Wilson, God has arrived," House snorted and proceeded to walk out onto the balcony then back, stopping for a second to say, "get your coat, we're outta here." When Wilson didn't follow as the tall figure disappeared out the open office door, he was shot in the head with a small index block at a deadly velocity.

"YOU'RE SHOOTING HORNETS NOW?! WHAT ARE WE, 4TH GRADERS?"

"Are you 97 and a vegetable?" came the retort. "I didn't shoot it, my cane did. I can't balance long remember moron."

"Cripple," Wilson muttered, rubbing the red spot that was rapidly forming on his forehead. "You left Cuddy in the awkward situation of explaining to the patient that you had lied to them whole heartedly when you told them they just grew balls after she just got implants and that yes, she is a freak of nature."

"Which is why, I said let's get going. I want to bail before oh fire and brimstone catches up."

Wilson sighed, grabbed his coat, and walked out. He'll clean up the paperwork later because a giant ass with a Messiah complex awaited Nurse Nancy's tending.


	2. Trusting Like an Idiot

"Take your car, I'll take the bike." House limped over to his motorcycle, leaving an annoyed Wilson behind him.

"Why can't you leave the bike and we both take the car and I'll crop your bike back at the apartment."

"Because, I don't want to think about Cuddy making the front page of Witch Sex with Bikini Babes Weekly." House was already straddling the bike, cane hooked and helmet on, already revving on the engine.

"HOUSE!!" came a high pitched yell from the third floor of the hospital, coincidentally in the Head of Diagnostic's department location.

"Now Wilson. I want to get drunk and wasted so I don't have to think about getting castrated."

Seeing as how there was no point in arguing with the man being that the fact he was already a good 20 feet ahead of him and breaking all traffic laws, Wilson started the car and chased after. Then again, trusting House was never a good thing to do unless he was drugged and in the backseat of your car because soon, Wilson learned that House's definition of just getting drunk was totally different from what he meant, hence the fact Wilson was now getting a face full of ass and permanent blinding due to neon colored lights.

"I thought you said we were going to a bar!" he shouted over the music.

"This is a bar see," House knocked down a glass of whiskey as he pointed to the general direction of a bar in the middle of all the poles and dancers as the bartender was trying to beat the shit out of a malfunctioning cash register. Wilson shrunk back into his seat even further when a twirling stripper ground into him, thrusting her breasts in his face before being grabbed by another male and dragged into the private rooms. He turned back to see blue eyes staring at him with hidden laugher and an incredulous look on his face. Wilson knew that look all to well and started his count down. 3…2…1… and right on cue, House snorted and desperately buried the full laughter behind sarcastic chuckles.

"I knew it," he slurred. "You have no balls at all." With that, he ordered another margarita double and leaned back into his seat to enjoy he sight as a new dancer took the stage and began to lick the pole up and down while gyrating her hips to the beat.

"No," Wilson groaned and stared at his own Heineken lamely when the girl popped her bra clasp and cat calls erupted throughout the club.

"Why did you run away when big tits came at you?" House finished his margarita and stole a shot of vodka from the table across from him when the other men were too busy staring at the new stripper. House shot that down in one gulp, shaking his head slightly to alleviate the burn before licking his lips when the girl lifted herself up onto the poll, upside down and twirled, bra coming off, and the men moaned with ecstasy around them.

"By the law of natural selection--,"

Wilson groaned. "Not the differential diagnosis again."

House ignored him and continued, shooting down another bourbon in the process, "By the law of natural selection, you as a _man_, would want to spread you seed as far an wise as possible." Blue eyes smirked, eyebrows quirking with a wide grin at the sight of an embarrassed blush once more making its way across the brown eyes man's cheeks. House took that as his cue to continue.

"And yet you shrink away and ignore all the forms of eyes candy that is currently surrounding us, and pushed away two gorgeous women, the third was a bitch, to remain with an old geezer such as moi." House quirked his eyebrows into suggestive arches causing Wilson to groan and put his face in his hands.

"And here comes the final verdict," he mumbled.

"You my friend…are gay," House leered and leaned forward, suggestively putting his hand on the completely stunned James Wilson. Now it was the brown eyes that were angry while the blue eyes were drunkenly sarcastic. Wilson rapidly jumped up, mouth open ready to yell something however, in his rush, he accidentally bumped into a man who spilled his beer all over his girlfriend who then fell back in shock, landing on House's lap, and House jerked away the impact caused pain to shoot up his bad thigh and he shoved her into Wilson's arms which instinctively rose and wrapped around her to keep her from falling. The boyfriend turned around, puce with anger fueled both by the scene of his girlfriend with the man who caused him to fall, and the fact he was completely drunk.

"SON OF A BITCH!!" The boyfriend tottered over, spittle coming from his overly swollen lips at every slurred syllable. "WHAT YOU THINK YOU DOING WITH MY GIRL?!"

"I what?" Wilson looked down at the giggling girl who was too out of it to care who she was with and realized how much trouble he was in.

"GIVE ME MY GIRL BACK YOU FAG!!" The boyfriend roared. The girl was giggling harder and she soon slurred in.

"Why? I like it here, nice and warm and solid," she leaned up and proceeded to assault Wilson's lips which were frozen with horror and disgust at the taste of Bloody Maries and tobacco. The boyfriend exploded, yanking his girlfriend back by the bra strap earning a squeal from her when she collided with one of the booth cushion, and made a beeline for Wilson fist raised.

Three seconds and the entire bar exploded into chaos, the girl squealing and the men turning to cheer on the fight while Wilson stood in the midst of this too terrified to even defend himself. Three second more and he found himself shoved down onto the table's wooden chair while the enraged boyfriend had his eyes crossed, a cane drawn up snuggly between his legs and House standing between him and the drunk with a face that looked like the twisted snarl of a hungry wolf. The boyfriend grunted and tried to stand before kicking out his burly legs, smacking it right into House's bad thigh causing the man to collapse and the move was followed up with hard fist straight into the gut. House gasped in surprise but he countered quickly, knocking his free fist right into the temple of the kneeling man while he brought the cane down right onto the other temple. The boyfriend hollered in agony as his head felt like it was split in two and shoved out his beefy hands slapping House in the face before shoving the older man off, letting House collapse in a heap onto a pile of once stacked chairs. The fight was over when the boyfriend groaned and with the help of his girlfriend made it three feet before throwing up.

The bar manager came out screaming telling the boyfriend to get the fuck out and telling him that he was to pay for all the property damages. Wilson on the other hand, had gotten up and rushed over to the panting House, forehead pale and obvious in too much pain to move away from the uncomfortable position of having a chair back stabbing him in the back.

"Fuck," House groaned, snickering between wheezes. "I haven't done that in a while."

"House try not to move," Wilson spoke, gingerly testing the thigh muscle but a hiss of pain told him to lay off. House simply dug into his pocket, popped 4 Vicodin and grunted as he sat up.

"You just had that much alcohol and you want to continue to pop painkillers like candy?!" Wilson eyes widened in shock and fear when he saw House's reckless regard for his health. He was not surprised of course when House called him a Jewish mom and told him to shut up and help him to his bike. He was sure that House was not surprised when he said there was no way he was riding when he was that drunk and not to mention in agony.

"We'll take my car and I can come back to pick up your bike once you're done throwing up." House opened his hand and Wilson gave him his cane, watching in utter defeat when he watched the man stood up onto the feet and limped gingerly towards the door. What else could he do? House eased himself onto his bike and started for the road and Wilson started his car and chased after the speeding deathtrap. The routine was still there.

The roads were pitch black but the summer humidity was comforting. It was about 12 at night now and Wilson had Carry On My Wayward Son gently humming from his radio while he watched the small red light rush ahead of him. His thoughts were interrupted slightly when he saw another car pull up behind him and pass him even through the road was a single lane. All his thoughts were interrupted when he saw the second car floor the pedal and the red light swerve into the left lane, right in front of an oncoming semi-truck. Wilson hit the breaks when he saw the body fly off the bike and the machine itself laying sputter under the wheel of the semi that had squelched to a halt. Wilson hit the breaks on his car as well, not noticing the car in front of him reversing until it smashed into his hood. A burly figure stepped out of the front car and made fast, angry struts towards what Wilson saw was House's prone figure. When the figure hit under the light of nearby street lamps, brown eye widened when he saw it was the boyfriend whom house had squarely beat in the bar. The man went over to House and the next minute would be the longest in Wilson's life.

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The semi hit House full of, sending him flying in a total daze of pain that exploded everywhere. His bike he heard crunch under the tires while his head, in the helmet thank god, hit the concrete with a crunching impact that he knew, shattered his skull. There was a rib stabbing into his lungs while another narrowly missed his heart. His legs, he knew one was broken the other was just screaming especially with the empty muscle slot. He didn't even want to try and test his arms because he knew most of his wrist was as good as shattered while the radius was now beautifully sticking out of his skin. Suddenly, he felt claustrophobic, his breaths being turned against him in the small confines of the helmet. Let him out, someone please let him out. He needed to taste the night air. He could hear footsteps now, and being in too much of a pain muddle haze, he could only hope they were Wilson's or the semi truck driver's. The helmet was ripped out his head and his head cracked onto the concrete, his mouth opening in a silent scream. A boot kicked him in his already damaged ribs, rolling him onto his back, looking up at his assaulter.

"You think you can get away after fucking me over like that?" the man leered, retrieving the pistol and pointing it in a drunken haze at House's face. "My head is fucked up and my girlfriend is screeching like a bitch. I just had to shut her up and it went very well. Now the cops are chasing me so let's make them a case."

PAIN!!! IS THERE NO END TO IT!! House literally screamed, hoarsely due to his damaged lungs as the bullets entered him. Three in the chest, two in the legs and one in the cheek and neck while another two in his arms. One final one was about to fired when he saw a brown blur tackled the man away from him and the gun misfired leaving the burly man lying still on the concrete while the semi driver hurriedly dialed the police after hanging up with the ambulance. There were gentle hands on him now but right now, his brain was screaming YOU DUMB FUCKER!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?! I'M IN AGONY HERE AND I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!! He almost laughed at the last comment. If his brain was going to kill him, it'd better hurry up because if not, he'll be dead already. Blackness was claiming him now and despite the calls, he'd rather have Cuddy shut up than have her screaming. Let's go to where there was no Cuddy and he felt his eyelids slide closed.


	3. Spontaneous Combustions

There was too much blood when the paramedics arrived. He was barely breathing, the oxygen mask immediately being strapped onto the haggard face while his other injuries were treated with care. The ride to the hospital was insane. House's heart stopped three times and had to be restarted with electric pads every time. When the ambulance jostled extremely hard having run over a pot hole, House began seizing, causing the bullets to enter him further allowing the oxygen mask to be sprayed with blood and the broken bones were heard crunching and snapping inside his already torn body.

This whole time, Wilson sat by his friend, holding down his body, feeling the broken ribs stab against his hands as he tried to steady the unconscious body on the gurney, desperately trying to set the broken legs and to keep the remaining arm bones in the skin. All the while, paramedics were trying to stifle the blood flow from his neck where the bullet wound had entered, leaving no exit wound but tearing at the veins and arteries every time House convulsed. The other bullets hit less crucial points but the amount of life that had soaked through into House's clothing, looked as if he had just come out of a prisoner of war camp after watching a massacre around him.

Still Wilson held on, clinging to little scarps of dry clothing, shoving down nausea again and again when he felt the wet articles squish in his hands and seeing little puddles of blood gather between his clenched fingers. It was only a 4 minute ride to the hospital and yet, those minutes were what made or broke a man and for House, it was taking every last inch of his life to make sure that the time did not break him.

Another bump shook through the rickety automobile and the paramedics had to move fast to remove the mask as House lurched up and vomited a fountain of blood, spraying everyone of a good distance, eyes rolling back into his head as his body once more started to seize. Wilson wiped the blood from his eyes quickly helped the others turn him as much onto his side as possible so not to allow the ribs to press any closer to the heart while blood leaked out of the trembling mouth onto the floor. One minute left and everyone could see the lights and the ancient building structure of their destination and Wilson prayed like a madman for the seizure to stop and for House to finally, finally, fully remain unconscious. No such luck was provided.

When they pulled up to the hospital and as they were moving the gurney down, House convulsed, his head smashing against the side railing followed by his heart stopping once more. He was hastily put down onto the ground and the paddles were used. Once, twice, three time, four time, and Wilson nearly sobbed when finally on the sixth time, his best friend's heart started again, a weak and faint murmur but it was there. And that was where Cuddy found him, shell shocked, tear stained, bloodstained and utterly immobile as he watched the genius ass of a companion being rushed into surgery.

"Hey," she said, not knowing really what to do and settled for placing a hand on his shoulder, hoping to shake him out of the catatonic state. She felt a pang of sympathy when he flinched at the touch but otherwise did nothing. Cuddy reached out to brush away the tears when she finally saw him respond as he blinked, but still not focusing, then those brown eyes flooded with slight confusion.

"It'll be alright," she whispered to him again. He was still blinking, desperately trying to get a grip on reality again, and then his entire body started trembling. Cuddy looked down at his hands and nearly gagged at the amount of blood on there. She realized that he himself was not moving anywhere so she moved the hand from his shoulder to his back, pushing him towards the hospital and the bathroom.

"You need to go wash your hands." That got a reaction as Wilson raised his hands, and stared at them in horror. He flipped the pale white skin back and forth, rubbing the fingers together all the while being pushed into the bathroom by a now crying Cuddy. He went in and she gingerly guided him to place his hands in the sink. When she turned the water on, Wilson cracked. He collapsed against the sink, ripping his hands away from the water, clutching them to his chest, smearing the red substance all over his neat blue shirt and tie, and curled into a fetal position. Sliding down against the wall ignoring the pain of the collision, he used the red hands to claw at his hair, his face, anything thing he could get into close contact with he tore at. Wilson was screaming now, shrieking more of and scaring the shit out of Cuddy for she just froze and watched as more of white and brown and blue became dark with red.

"WILSON!!" she sobbed, hurriedly kneeling down when he started to claw at his face so hard that new red was being drawn, and grabbing those frantic hands and held them cuffed in front of him. He twisted now, desperate to get away but she held fast, forcing his face to hers with a jerk of his wrists.

"Wilson stop, stop damn it," she jerked him again, like one would do to a disobedient child and forced him to meet her eyes. Brown stared into the blue while the man's chest heaved in ragged breaths and for some moments it was silent. Then, all the energy seemed to drain from his body as Wilson pitched forward into Cuddy's chest, clinging to her blouse, quietly sobbing. The two of them stayed there for what felt like an eternity and as much as Cuddy wished to check up on how House was faring, Wilson would not budge and she found that if she even so much as mentioned leaving, he panicked. What has she gotten herself into?

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There were many lights now and yet, he still felt it was too dark. He was cold too, so cold that even when hands were pressing down on him, he still felt cold. Let him shiver, he needed to shiver to maintain his body heat you damn morons so let go of him. To his annoyance, the hands only tightened their grip and then, there was some plastic thing being put on his face. Slowly so slowly, he was feeling warm and the blackness once more became consuming. Fucking about time, murmured his brain as it went back to slumbering. HEY!! He shouted at it. Come back here!! I still need you to tell my penis to make a wet dream so it can have appropriate CPR. His brain of course ignored him and he once again passed out into an empty abyss, barely registering the feeling of hands moving away.


	4. Sooner or Later

"I'm so sorry," Wilson whispered again as he stared down at Cuddy's ruined blouse and his own ruined shirt.

"It's no problem," she laughed. "This one is an old one that had a few good days ahead but I was meaning to get a new one anyways."

"I'm so sorry." Wilson whispered again. Cuddy turned to find him hugging himself, eyes downcast and toes shuffling around nervously.

"You don't have to apologize for anything alright. It wasn't your fault." Blue eyes flared out and that meant this portion of the conversation was over and Wilson gulped, raising his head to stare at the door. He grinned sheepishly.

"I wonder what House would say if he caught you and me in the men's bathroom together."

Cuddy grinned back and shrugged, "You know him better than I do so you tell me."

"I think he would say, "Wilson, you actually got some balls,"" Wilson mimicked House's god voice causing Cuddy to laugh before continuing, "either that or "I knew she was a witch. She finds the opposite sex's private rooms kinky. She can probably get a view of a lot of goods from hiding behind the stalls.""

At that Cuddy rolled her eyes, washed her face once more and turned only to have an orderly burst through the door, causing both of them to jump. He was panting and Cuddy and Wilson felt their hearts freeze in their chests.

"The surgery was a success," he panted. Cuddy and Wilson sighed in relief until the orderly continued. "However, when the last seizure hit and Dr. House banged his head, he had a vessel in his brain rupture and though the blood was removed and the vessel fixed, we still do not know the extent of the damage due to the fact that he is still under anesthetics."

"How bad was the bleed?" Cuddy asked with complete panic.

"It was a small bleed thankfully and we were able to stop most major damage to his brain tissues."

"Thank God," Wilson breathed.

"He is in ICU still but you are able to see him. He has finally stabilized and is in good condition for the road to recovery. And Dr. Chase sends his regards." With that the orderly left, followed by Cuddy and Wilson in hot pursuit.

The orderly sighed when he saw them turn down the hallway to the ICU unit. He had not told them that Dr. House had nearly died twice on the operating table and that chances of him making a full recovery into what he had been were slim to none, yet when he saw their haggard appearances, he couldn't bring himself to be the barer of bad news. All he could do as he headed down to the shower unit where Chase was throwing up after the surgery comforted by Cameron, was hope that all the predictions would be wrong.

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"HEY!!" House hollered into the darkness. "HELLO?!" All that came back was his echo that sounded fainter and fainter every passing second. Sighing, he sat down cross legged on the floor of this abyss and counted his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…DAMN HE WAS BORED!! Getting up, he took a few steps forward, then a few steps back, then forward again, then back again, then forward, then back, then forward the back.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" He shouted and jumped hard on the ground. His fucking leg didn't hurt so fuck the laws of physics about gravity, it was just solid black…wait uh oh. House plunged into the darkness, desperately clawing back for the rim of safety that he knew there was solid ground but there was no rim. No, he cried, No this isn't happening. He was falling, tumbling, shattering, and he felt as if his body was being torn to pieces. Where was his fucking brain now? His leg wasn't hurting but the rest of him was. And he was still falling?! He was going to land in China at this rate but hey, he at least knew quite a few good hooker companies. His daydream of hookers was once more ended when he came slamming back down onto white ground. Looking up and rubbing his sore head, he realized he was back on the bus and there, sitting in the same spot as she had been the previous times was Amber.

"Do you always land yourself here?" She smirked and turned so that she was facing him fully and he could tell that she had not aged a single minute since the last time he had seen her. Then again, how could she have? The girl was dead and in the ground.

"Are you always a Cutthroat Bitch?" House snorted, gingerly picking himself up off the ground.

"What did you do?" she didn't even flinch as her eyes bore into his, seeking an answer just like him, almost as if they were mirrors.

"I got drunk, got into a fight, and got into an accident." He snorted.

"And," she smiled that annoying I know you smile and House smirked back. He remembered why he liked her.

"No other reasons." One golden eyebrow raised itself skeptically and a bushy one lowered in a scowl back.

"Then why do I smell cheap aftershave on you along with gunpowder." She wrinkled her nose to emphasize the point. House knew he had been caught but he didn't give in.

"What tell you that I didn't shave?"

"Because I don't think it possible for you to use Youth for Men aftershave and or even own a razor." Triumph echoed in her voice as he leaned back and waited for a response.

"So I dragged Wilson there, that's all." House turned to leave.

"Always the same House." Amber smiled again. "I wonder if you aren't already going senile."

"Can it Cutthroat because I can tell you that your boyfriend takes it up the ass like a professional."

Amber laughed again and House even found himself cracking a rare grin that wasn't a snark.

"You might want to tell him that when you get back and send me a postcard of his beet red face." Amber flipped her blond hair back and turned to the window. House once more turned to leave until a soft whisper caused him to falter in his steps.

"Thank you." He whirled around but Amber was already gone. Shaking his head, he put one foot in front of the other and stepped of the cheap, plastic-coated metal steps into the blinding light again. He needed to remind his brain to definitely check that it wasn't going insane but then again, he has always been a creature of habit.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wilson and Cuddy had been sitting in House's room for over 4 hours with no sign of change. House was still comatose and all his stats the same, and the machines were still whirring and beeping, indicting that the man in the nearly full body cast was still alive. Finally, when the clock hit 6 in the morning, Cuddy rose to leave for she still had a hospital to run. Bidding Wilson…and House a good…morning, she went to grab coffee and make sure all the activities and other patient care were still running smoothly.

Wilson yawned and stretched, watching his best friend's chest rise and fall with rough hitches. At least he was still breathing, ran through his head as he rubbed his now clean hands against his face that felt grimy and worn. Collapsing back onto the chair, Wilson moved his eyes to meet their target of the ugly bandages around the man's skull.

"You know you're going to give the hospital hell for cutting off your hair." Wilson chuckled. "I feel sorry for the team already."

There was no response as House continued to breath, and the monitors continued to beep. Wilson sighed and continued.

"I told you that it would be a bad idea to ride your bike but you don't ever listen do you? You always have to have it your way, your plans, your mind, your works, your damn metaphors as well. Well look now. This is what it landed you in and I hardly feel guilty for you."

There was still no response as another shaky breath made its way through House's frail chest. Despite all his best efforts, Wilson screamed and collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the sheets that covered the cast on what used to be House's good leg. He allowed exhaustion to sweep him off his feet as he closed his eyes and drifted off into the pure bliss of sleep that had been denied from him due to panic and worry.

"Please wake up soon," he murmured as he felt the last bits of his conscious thinking slipping. What Wilson failed to notice was the brain monitor readings spiking for a few moments before returning to their monotonous recording once again.


	5. Shattered then taped

First things first and in his life, that first thing had always been pain. And oh boy did he have a lot of it at the moment when every single nerve ending seemed to be firing a red hot poker right into his spine and up to the pain receptor part of his brain. Every limb and appendage screamed bloody murder at being moved even in the slightest and he decided it would be wise just to lay still and make sure not to scream. The second thing was to see where he was because for all he knows, he could be damn well in China right now. Prying his eyes open with agonizing effort, he immediately regretted it when he was flooded with blinding white. MORON!! His brain screamed. Blinking a few times to clear the spots, he recognized the room immediately as the ICU and he was able to piece together snippets of why the hell he landed his ass here again. The third thing was to look around and examine the surrounding. Seeing as how his neck was not moving more than an inch to the side, he found he was faced with a giant brown blob devouring what was left of his left leg. Grunting, he desperately tried to snarl at the fuzz ball to get off, only to find out that there was a tube shoved down his throat. He had be been trached. Grunted again, he shook his leg, biting down as the pain receptors shot off again but was satisfied when the blob began to move. That's right Blob, get the hell off.

The blob turned to face him with sleep in its brown eyes which quickly disappeared when they stared into his blue.

"Oh my god, you're awake." The voice was slurred with exhaustion and relief. House snorted, wanting to retort with well duh because otherwise I wouldn't be feeling as if I just had a pole rammed through my ass.

"Can you understand me?" It was Wilson so let's humor him a little. House refused to move and Wilson kept asking questions and House still refused to move. When he saw Wilson start to crack, House gave in and chuckled indicating to the panicking oncologist that he had understood everything. Wilson turned puce with anger but the smile on his face gave away his utter joy. He reached over him and pushed the button for the nurse to come in.  
"You are always going to be a giant ass aren't you." Wilson grumbled. All House could do was blink when he felt himself begin to nod off. Weakly, he used his fingers to touch the back of Wilson's hand, simple and small but actions speak louder than words ever could.

'Be here when I wake up again?'

"I'll see you soon," Wilson whispered back and House slipped back into unconsciousness.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

1 year later

"That should be the last of them Doctor House," a smiling Dr. Cameron leered at him when the last of the stitches had been devoured by his body. House of course, snorted and moved his arm away to grab his cane and walk out.

"You still look like a hooker so therefore I propose the question of you coming over to my place and have me bugger the brains out of you." House flashed a charming smile at her though Cameron only rolled her eyes.

"You still look like a gimpy or Gollum from LOTR therefore I propose you get your sorry ass out of here so I can take the next patient and Chase might not punch the living daylights out of you."

"Wittle Wombat can't do anything such as that." House smirked and as if on cue, Chase walked in with his arms crossed.

"Wombat does what now?" Chase smirked and walked over to Cameron. House snorted and walked out of the room, tottering a little for his hands just retained their feeling a week ago, leaving the smiling couple behind.

"Please tell me you didn't call Cameron a bottom bitch again." Wilson groaned when he saw House's triumphant smile.

"Nope," House grinned back and promptly walked smack into a wall. Wilson sighed and turned away snickering but deep down he felt a pang of sorrow. Because of the rupture, House was now completely blind in the left eye, partially deaf in one ear, and his limb functions were impaired. All in all though, he was still House with all his snark and brilliance. He was just a little clumsier than he had been but, since when was he not when it came to acting like a normal human being. Wilson out of guilt and constant nagging had paid for a new bike which House proceeded to take to a shop and painted with hot rod flames. He rode it to his apartment then to a bar which had Wilson screaming at him by the end of the trip for the Jewish momma had gotten lost downtown for 2 hours searching for him.

"You just asked her to sleep with you." Wilson sighed and stepped with House, watching out for him on the left side.

"Well duh Mr. Gay Cupid, because unlike you I go for those whom I know I can bag and let go without any divorce papers."

"And those with boyfriends." Wilson mumbled but immediately regretted the statement. House froze up slightly and his limp tottered but otherwise, he still made a beeline for the bike.

"That doesn't matter," House said slowly. "If I can save your ass and see Mr. Innocent shoot a guy, I think that's worth it."

"Do I have to wear unironed clothing for a month in repentance?" Wilson chuckled.

"Yes and yes, and you pay for all the drinks as well."

"When don't I?!"

"HOUSE!!" a shrill shriek cut the argument short as blue eyes sparkled with mirth and hidden puzzles while the brown eyes closed in exasperation.

"AGAIN?!" Pale white hands threw themselves up into the air as he reached for his car keys and House for his bike keys.

The routine had been established again yet neither of them could forget how close it came to shattering into tiny irreplaceable pieces. The last mystery to be solved for Wilson was the why House had seemed for endearing to him and Cuddy once he was in good enough shape to snark and walk again. Only House knew the words echoing through his mind, the last thoughts from Cutthroat Bitch.

"Thank you."

"Well if I cost me a heart and some bodily functions, you'd better damn well be thankful."

**End**


End file.
